The Den of Ubiquity

Friday, October 24, 2003:

I'm Going Cheap



When my dad moved down to Edmonton a few months ago, he had a job at a furniture chain. They were opening up a new store, and he was to be sales manager. In the interim, he would work at their various stores throughout Edmonton as a salesman, to get acquainted with the store.

He has now quit, though. He was routinely working six day weeks, and sometimes seven. Since one of the reasons he wanted to move to Edmonton was to see more of his grandchildren, he wasn't happy with that, and the new store was not coming together on schedule either.

This is not an object of major concern. My dad has had many, many jobs in his life, most of them sales-related in some way, and by this point I imagine he has some job-hunting skills accumulated. My uncle, whose house he is sharing right now, has a lawn-maintenance company which can always use extra hands, so he's working there when the weather permits.

I found out some of this at lunch with him last week. He needed to borrow my car to get insurance for his new car. This is how little time he's had--he's had this car(which is my grandma's old car, because my aunt bought her a new car)for weeks now, but hadn't been able to get it ready to drive yet. I think he also had to pick up some stuff from his former office, because he left some stuff in my trunk that he couldn't carry on the bus.

Anyway, he said he might look for something a bit lower-key, like maybe a bookstore, or even something in the Farmer's Market. Not sure what precisely that's about, but I'm sure he knows what he's doing.

A few days later, I begin to notice an odd smell in the car. Mostly just when getting into it, and my nose quickly adjusted to it, but it was somewhat unpleasant and a bit annoying. It didn't smell like, say, burning automotive fluids, or anything car-related, but I wasn't sure. It smelled more like decaying food, and I wondered if something the kids ate in the car on the Thanksgiving drive had gotten under the seat or something. I never actually crawled around trying to locate it, though.

Yesterday my dad called me at work, asking at Simon's birthday party(he turns four on Sunday). He mentioned the stuff that was still in my trunk. And he asked if I'd thrown out the eggs yet.

Only then did I remember that he had mentioned some hard-boiled eggs from the fridge at his former office. He'd grabbed them with everything else when he left, and left them in a bag in the trunk. And he'd been worried that they might go bad...and start to smell. Of course. Rotten eggs.

Yesterday was the day that Nicole was driving to Wainwright, doing some school readings, and driving back. So of course she had the car. Her nose is not as sensitive, and she didn't seem to have noticed anything. When she got home last night, I remembered right away to check the trunk, and sure enough, there was a tupperware container with stinky eggs in it.

Already the car smells better.




I signed up for
NaNoWriMo again this year, of course. How could I not? I waffled for a while about what I should be writing--a sequel to one of the last two novels? Something involving the Calgary-based superhero group led by Joe Clark, retired International Agent? Maybe some cosmic battle fought on higher planes of existence?

But I ended up deciding on another fantasy novel, in what I am tentatively planning to be a huge, sprawling umpteen-book epic series. Because, unlike some people, I like such things. In the NaNoWriMo forums, I got involved in a discussion of Robert Jordan, and all these people saying that they stopped reading the series in the third book, or the fourth book, or the seventh book, or the tenth book, or whatever, often because of frustration with the interminability of the series. For me, that's practically one of the selling points.

I'm cannibalizing two previous stories, which both seem to fit with the overall plot I have in mind while taking place far enough apart to be able to define the world almost by triangulation. The world, which one of the stories is already sort of set in, is something I built as a world-building exercise in the summer of '85 staying with my grandparents in Stettler. I've lost most of the notes I made, but I remember the highlights. There's a big decaying empire to the south, a big decadent Aztec-style empire to the east, and in the middle a sort of ithmus, like about a quarter of Europe, where everything else happens. I tossed in a bunch of cultures because they seemed like a good idea at the time, and I wanted all the AD&D races there, but whatever else, I have to keep the elves.

Anyway, I'm still trying to finish my Space Empires III game before the end of the month. I've still got a week, but it's a bit busy. This weekend will be taken up mostly by Simon's birthday--he turns four on Sunday--as well as Nicole's brother Wayne's, on Saturday.

Nicole's going down to Medicine Hat for some more readings on Tuesday, and that's a long enough drive that she will be going down Monday, and maybe staying overnight in Calgary on Tuesday instead of coming all the way back. To prevent logistical nightmares, the kids will be going back to the grandparents' in Beaumont, so I will essentially be on my own. I have a number of plans, the majority of which I know from experience I will not execute. But I will probably go to a NaNoWriMo get-together on Monday night, at a bar which is relatively near the office. The problem will be killing time in between, but I think I've decided that I will finally make some time to go down to the University library and check out that Dictionary of Minor Planet Nomenclature book. Tuesday night I will probably just go home and watch "American Beauty", which Nicole has no interest in watching. As long as I finish it in time to tape "24".




For some reason, since the end of summer we've gotten more TV stations than we used to. We cut back to basic cable a year or more ago, because we were mostly watching network programs, and didn't have much time to watch more. But now we're getting a whole bunch of channels again, and as far as I know aren't paying more. Mostly I've been trying to catch a few Star Trek:TNG reruns on "Spike". Tonight we were fortunate enough to catch "Dark Page", one of the few that we had never seen before, with Majel Barrett's best acting in the entire series.

The only new show we've really stuck to this year is "Coupling". I know, but I never saw the British version, and likely never will, and this seems to be going well enough. "The West Wing" doesn't seem to have changed too much for the worse, despite Aaron Sorkin's departure. I hope Gary Cole's character will get some airtime, because I tend to like him.




I finally managed to finish The Plains of Passage, despite forgetting to bring it with me for Thanksgiving. It wasn't quite as bad as it could have been, but it really could have had the prehistoric botany and zoology cut out into appendices or entire separate books. And sometimes Auel gets a little hamhanded with her characters. It had its moments, but I'm glad I'm finished it.

When I was up for Thanksgiving, I ended up reading Robert Sawyer's Iterations collection, which was a library book. I'd read several of the stories before, but quite a few were new to me. One of them, "Fallen Angel", didn't really work for me, but it was apparently inspired by a particular sculpture, and maybe seeing that would have made it work better. On the whole it was pretty solid, though.

After finished The Plains of Passage, I read another library book, Tricky Business by Dave Barry. Ever since reading Big Trouble, I was hoping he'd return to fiction, and he has, with admirable promptness for someone who is surely very busy thinking up booger jokes. I mean, honing his craft of humour. I think it holds up quite well with its predecessor, and proves the first book is not just a fluke. It has some almost harrowing moments to go with the madcap humour, and engenders some serious suspense, too.

Then I went on to Starfishers, the second book in Glen Cook's SF trilogy of the same name. The first one, Shadowline, was an almost straightforward military SF book, with two mercenary bands manipulated into opposing each other by the nasty human offshoot race, the Sangaree. The Starfishers proper, a mysterious group that live in deep space, are only a minor plot thread in the first book. The second book takes a quite different tack, following a spy sent to infiltrate the Starfishers, with a friend who turns out to be one of the survivors from the first book(maybe I should've noticed that earlier, but I'd forgotten his name). There are also Sangaree involved, but the book focuses on the main character, who has some problems because of frequent psych-conditioning into various cover identities. It jumps around a little bit in the timeline, as Cook often does, and the same character goes by different names, even in his own head, at different periods. I hope we see more of him in the third book, Star's End.

Now I'm reading another Robert Sawyer: Hybrids, the third in his Neanderthal Parallax trilogy. It's another slow-paced book, like the last one. Sawyer does seem to be seriously proposing his "Neanderthal" world as a utopia, despite its lack of agriculture, universal electronic surveillance and recording, and ruthless eugenics program. It does ask some tough questions about humanity and our own cultures, though, and is often interesting.

I'm also making my way through I Have Landed, Stephen Jay Gould's final collection of articles on natural history. As usual, he seems to spend more time writing about scientists and philosophers than he does about science, but it's still fitfully interesting.




A couple of links to boost my ego a little bit:

First, there's a review of the Open Space anthology in "Challenging Destiny". About my story, it says "'The New Paranoia Album' by Aaron V. Humphrey tries to make some points about the power of pop culture in a fantastical story but it didn’t seem make as big an impression as it needed to." That's an interesting deduction on the part of the reviewer, about what my story was trying to do, though a bit misguided. Frankly, I wasn't "trying to do" much with my story, just entertain myself with a story which is more, really, about its main character's struggles with obsession than it is with the power of pop culture in general. But whatever, at least I got mentioned.*

Second, in a recent entry in "Cosmic Log", the author was talking about books related to solar flares. Mentioned was Thomas T. Thomas & Roger Zelazny's Flare, and I remembered having written a review of that back when I was actively reviewing books on rec.arts.sf.written, ten years or so ago. So imagine my glee at finding a link to a collection of reviews of the book, and my review being there! It's like a brush with fame or something. Oddly enough, that review is not up on the web with the rest of my reviews; I may have to remedy that now, and see what other ones I might have missed.




An exercise to the reader: at my current rate, at what date will I reach the top of my countdown? Don't neglect higher-order derivatives.

290. Fleetwood Mac: Never Going Back Again, from Rumours

This quiet acoustic number from the blockbuster album is one of the most striking, probably because of its very quietness, and the oblique lyrics.

289. Depeche Mode: Behind The Wheel, from Music For The Masses

The synth-driven beat to this song is the main attraction of it, with the lyrics just icing on the cake, following the usual Depeche Mode themes.




Balloons cost more when they're blown up. Well, that's inflation for you.



Aaron // 10:49 PM Clix me!
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Monday, October 06, 2003:

This Hunger's Made Me Weak



See, what did I tell you--Space Empires III ate my brain. But it's starting to wind down now--the Aphsinx(that's me)long since wiped out the Baklad, and have been making good progress on the Vrok and the Tch'ickan. Declaring war on the Tch'ickan, unfortunately, may have turned the other large empire, the Certadsh, against me, and soon after that my longtime allies the Hevordah and the new empire that sprang up, the Welshra.

But now my ships are making headway in Certadsh space, the Welshra have been resubjugated(they originally formed on a Vrok planet that I had just subjugated with my troops--I guess they had been a subject race to the Vrok, and took advantage of the chaos to declare their independence), the Vrok themselves have only one tiny planet left, the Tch'ickan are nearly gone, and the Hevordah's fleet of numerous but tiny ships has been decimated. Now it's mostly bureaucracy, with the occasional space battle. The game will probably be over before I finish plumbing the remainder of the technology that the registered version has made available to me.

Anyway, I've had no shortage of things that I've thought of blogging about, only a shortage of time where I felt like blogging. Or even Livejournaling. I'll scrape up what I can now. I don't think that I'm going to feel like doing the Worldcon thing, though, surprise surprise, after over a month. There are a few things I might want to mention, but a day-by-day discussion is a bit too late.

So what else have I been up to?




I never believe those people who say you need to give your car an oil change every three months, or 5000 km, or whatever. For one thing, who are these people? They're the ones who run oil change places, so of course they want you to come in as often as they can get away with. I'm sure your car will run just fine if you bring it in every three months for an oil change, but will it run must worse if you only do it every six months? Every year? So I do it every year, just before Thanksgiving. (Which in Canada, as you may recall, is around the same time as Columbus Day in the States.)

Last year we were feeling a little guilty about under-maintaining our car, or something, so I got the absolute works. I was probably there for almost an hour while they flushed out everything they could flush. This year I was feeling a little more conservative, so I got mostly the basic, though still with a pricier synthetic oil.

They mentioned that my fan belt was looking a little cracked, and it should get fixed soon. I remembered them saying that last year, too, so I thought, okay, it's really time to get it done.

It's a pain to take the car in, though. We've just got the one, so it's a nuisance. You have to be sure it doesn't interfere with grocery shopping, or any out-of-town trips. Nicole's parents went on holiday, so we had to check on their place in Beaumont for a couple of weekends. And so on. I put it off, and put it off.

Then, last Tuesday, I was driving home from work, going up the hill out of the river valley onto Connors Road, and I happened to notice that the engine-temperature gauge on the dashboard was a fair bit closer to the "H" than it usually is. By the time I reached the top of the hill, it had reached the "H" and the dashboard was trying to call my attention to it more vigorously, using the "Check Gages"[sic] warning light. (I'm 90% sure that "gauge" is the correct spelling, not "gage" or [shudder]"guage". Actually, dictionary.com lists "gage" as a variant, and I guess that's okay; "gauge" really looks like it shouldn't have a long "a" sound. But I digress.)

Once I got off the hill I made a quick right turn into residentia and pulled over. I called Nicole on the cell and told her what was happening. The last time this had happened, we were down in Calgary for ConVersion, probably 2-3 years ago. I spent a long time waiting for Nicole to show up, and found out that on Deerfoot Trail it had started overheating, and she took it in to Canadian Tire. Luckily, she got to borrow her cousin Carla's SUV for the day, and it turned out to be just the thermostat. I didn't think I could assume it would be so simple this time.

Unfortunately, there were no Canadian Tires nearby, or near my way home at all, really, though there was one at Mill Woods Town Centre, a little past our house. I was still less than halfway home, though. I didn't want to drop the car off at some random garage if I could help it, either. So I decided I would try the slow way home--drive for five minutes, pull off the road and stop for five minutes to let the engine cool down. I crept fitfully down Connors Road, past Bonnie Doon mall, down to Argyll Road, and finally onto 75th Street, which is practically the home stretch. And then I saw a Midas.

Of course! Midas got their start as strictly a "muffler & exhaust" place, but now they do full service, and I've never been less than pleased with them. I pulled into their parking lot and walked into their office. I let them know about the engine troubles and thought, hey, while I'm here, I should get them to do the fan belt as well.

They didn't have anyone free to drive me home or anything, but there was a bus that went by. It turned out to be the 321, a peak-hours-only route of miniature van-sized buses. Luck was with me, because one showed up after only a couple of minutes, and I later discovered that they only came by every half hour.

Wednesday I rode the bus, which I hadn't done to our new office, but it turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. When I talked to the Midas folks that afternoon, they said it was the radiator(which they kept calling a "rad", but I assumed that was what they meant), and they'd have to replace it, for about $500. I reminded them of the fan belt(which somehow they had forgotten), and they said they'd do that as well--another $100. They said it should be ready about 5:00-5:30. I checked all my bus routes, and ended up getting there closer to 4:30 from some fortuitous connections.

They said they had it mostly done, radiator and fan belt replaced, and showed me the spongy, crumbly mess that my old radiator had become, which disintegrated at the touch of a finger. (I also discovered that the radiator didn't seem to be a round tank of fluid, as somehow I had always pictured it, but a metal lattice of vanes to, well, radiate heat over a larger surface area.) They just had a few more tests they wanted to run. Not a problem; I had a book to read, and they had reasonably comfortable chairs, even if they played the country station.

Half an hour later they had it up on the hydraulic lift again. Apparently the heater wasn't working, and the water pump didn't seem to be circulating the heat like it was supposed to. It had been working earlier, but was no longer. They had a few things they could try, though.

Half an hour after that, they said they wanted to keep the car another day. That day, I got a ride with one of the mechanics in his red sports car, and we ordered out for pizza.

Thursday I rode the bus again, and found out from Midas that they had to replace the entire water pump. They also replaced the timing belt, which wasn't in horrible shape but had a couple of tears, and which they'd had to take off to get at the water pump anyway. Another $650. My connections were not as smooth this time, and it was more like 5:00 when I got there...and they were running tests again. Luckily, these ones all turned out okay, and I got to drive it home. I deposited my paycheque(which I had been planning to do on Tuesday...), picked up some Subway, and drove home.

So far it's been running fine, maybe even a little quieter. I had some brief hope that it might have indirectly fixed my tape-deck problems, but it's still as flaky as ever. Ah, well.

Now, at least, I don't have to feel guilty about not checking the oil when I gas it up at a self-serve station--which is every time, except when we're on the highway. After an oil change, I can relax for a few months before I start worrying about it. Not actually doing anything about it, but worrying.




Holy crap, has it been an entire month since I updated on my books? Man.

It seems that last time I posted, I was reading A Civil Campaign by Lois McMaster Bujold, which I finished quickly. It did have a little bit of SFnality, mostly due to the "butterbugs", but it was mostly enjoyable for its character-based plot. I am holding off from Diplomatic Immunity for the nonce. Since then we've had:

Sheri S. Tepper: Singer From The Sea. This book doesn't seem to have a whole lot that's new from Tepper. Society with oppressive males and oppressed females--check. Weird alien life forms--check. Gaian forces--check. Maybe the elements hadn't been combined in quite the same way, but they've all been in her other books.

Sometimes Tepper's near-strident feminism bothers me. It's not like she doesn't have sympathetic male characters, but they are almost never the ones who are in charge. It's too often the oppressive patriarchy. It keeps seeming to me(as, I admit, a white male)that they're complaining about evils that are already pretty much non-issues. Maybe it's my Generation-X background, but I just don't see that kind of phallocracy around. The "male oppressive patriarchy" is on the wane, which to me is good enough. Attitudes will die out when the people who hold them die, if they're not reinforced, and so that kind of feminism seems less and less relevant. But that's just my take, of course. Still, Tepper's preoccupation with it is as annoying in its way as Jack L. Chalker's nearly-monotonous occupation with themes of physical and mental change imposed from without. Chalker is already sliding down from my list of favourite authors, and I would hate to see Tepper follow.

Robert Charles Wilson: Blind Lake. His new hardcover, which we got from the library. Nicole and I have been reading his books fairly avidly since Mysterium, probably, or maybe even A Bridge of Years, and while they have their moments, they never quite manage to hold together. But he does seem to be improving, and this book I think is his best so far. Nicole didn't like it as much as the Wilson's last one, The Chronoliths, which had a better beginning, but while this one starts slow, it carries off a conclusion much better than Wilson's usual. Usually that's where he falls down, you see, in tying everything up, or explaining the enigma that has been central to the book. Here the closing revelations are far from a letdown, and there are a number of intermediate mysterious resolved as well, so it's very satisfying. This should definitely go on the Aurora, or, heck, Nebula, lists for next year.

John Brunner: The Stone That Never Came Down. This is a book I read years ago, that I grabbed off the shelf to reread pretty much on impulse. It's one of Brunner's most optimistic books, in a way. Admittedly, its premise is that the human race is unlikely to survive without a fundamental change in its way of thinking, but luckily, in the book, such a change comes a long, in the form of a "viral chemical" called VC. VC is an experimental drug which enhances human perceptivity and memory, and turns out to be contagious through blood transfusion.

So in a near-future(well, alternate history, these days)where Europe is crumbling under unemployment, fundamentalism, and the threat of war, suddenly a growing group of people from different backgrounds become clear thinkers, and agree that the best thing to do is to spread this clear thinking to the rest of the world. So they proceed to deploy VC in edible form to trouble spots, and everybody lives happily ever after.

If I ever become omnipotent, I tell you, that is what I'm going to do. Infect the human race with something that will make people's thinking more...well, more mature. I often define maturity as "the ability to take a large number of things into account at once". A child will reach for something not caring that they've just been told not to. A teenager might take something if they think they won't get caught. And adults are often encumbered with preconceptions, prejudices, and sloppy thinking. What would happen if people no longer had the ability to ignore things? Some might not be able to cope with it, perhaps, but in general I think the world would be a better place to live.

Joyce Cool: The Kidnapping of Courtney Van Allen And What's-Her-Name. This is a young-adult book that Nicole had, probably from her own girlhood. The main character ends up hanging out with a spoiled rich girl, and then they get kidnapped. It's mildly wacky, with some things that you couldn't get away with in these post-Generation-X days. It's all played for comedic effect--not a lot of real tension, because even the kidnappers are goofy. Not in Gordon Korman's league by any means, but a nice quick read.

Samuel R. Delany: The Ballad of Beta-2. One of a bunch of Delany books I bought years and years ago upon reading the wonderful Babel-17. They've been fairly spotty, with the sprawling and uneven Dhalgren, the almost incomprehensible The Einstein Intersection, the readable misfit-in-utopia Triton, the space-operatic Nova, the lackluster Tales of Neverÿon, and the intriguing Fall of The Towers. But this one, which, perhaps tellingly, is earlier than Babel-17, is a small gem.

A budding sociology major is forced by an unsympathetic professor into a detailed study of the titular ballad, one of few lasting works coming from a group of generation ships launched just before the invention of hyperspace made them obsolete. The ships' occupants have been mostly quarantined on their ships ever since. The student starts off making a perfunctory effort, and becomes more and more intrigued the more he finds out, right up until the very end.

Linda Haldeman: Esbae:A Winter's Tale. I have never been quite sure whether Linda is related to Joe or Jack Haldeman, but that's not important. This is a short little urban fantasy--well, collegiate fantasy, really. It takes place on a college campus, in a college town, featuring college students and college professors, with good and evil spirits thrown in for spice. I couldn't help wondering how similar the female protagonist was to the author, which is also not important, I suppose. The plot works itself out well enough, I suppose, but it's not a stellar book.

Robert Charles Wilson: The Perseids & Other Stories. I had requested this one from the library at the same time as Blind Lake, for some reason, but decided to put some space between them. The stories are an odd bunch, mostly set in Toronto, and most featuring a particular used bookstore, though often only in a cameo way. It's not Newford by any means, though. The stories are, perhaps, a little bit more successful in their resolutions than Wilson's novels, but still a bit spotty, especially "Pearl Baby", which didn't work for me. The stories are strongly character-driven, with speculative elements playing a role but not always dominating them. Worth a look, though.

Crawford Kilian: Gryphon. This was the book I was reading the first day I took the bus. I get a lot of reading done on the bus, and this wasn't that long a book, so I finished it that night. It didn't start out that promising, with a couple of spoiled-seeming kids in a near-Utopian future Earth, but it quickly picks up. The stakes escalate in a way that somehow reminded me of Eric Nylund's Signal To Noise, and by the end I was completely enthralled. Not quite as stellar as his epic Eyas, but a high point in his oeuvre nonetheless.

Spider Robinson: Callahan's Con. From the second day I took the bus. I wasn't sure whether I should try this book out or not, since the major disappointment of Callahan's Key, but after kitten's recommendation at Worldcon(which I will explain later), I thought I'd check it out from the library. It moved pretty fast, as the Callahan books tend to do, brought in a few older characters, even some unlikely ones, while leaving some out. This is actually one reason the book works better than the last one--the de-emphasis on the mind-numbingly powerful allies the denizens of Callahan's have acquired. Also, they are concerned with not calling attention to themselves from any large government organizations. There is also the touching death of one of the series regulars, which evokes real pathos. So, a welcome return to form.

Peter Ward & Donald Brownlee: Rare Earth. A non-fiction book that was recommended in one of the Worldcon panels I attended. It offers an interesting look at the fledgeling science of "astrobiology", the study of life on planets. It makes a case for the Rare Earth Hypothesis, which is that while bacterial life is likely common in the universe, given its long history on Earth and exploitation of seemingly hostile niches, multicellular life is likely exceedingly rare.

According to the Rare Earth theory, animal life requires such diverse elements as placement of a star in the correct area of its galaxy, correct composition so planets form at all, but also radioactives for plate tectonics, a large moon so its axis doesn't shift too often, the right kind of star so that it remains habitable for a long enough period, and an absence of nearby supernovas or planet-sterilizing asteroids. In addition, it may require the whole planet to freeze over more than once, frequent mass extinctions, and a Jupiter-sized planet in a stable orbit.

It seems to me that the authors are almost too eager to take anything odd about the history of Earth, or even weird theories(like the Snowball Earth where the whole thing freezes over), and make a virtue of necessity. Maybe it's just that it's hard to accept the idea that we only exist on this planet, as sentient animal life, because of a mind-numbing series of coincidences resulting in just enough water(but not too much), just enough heat(but not too much), just enough asteroid collisions(but not too much), just enough radioactives in the core(but not too much), etc.

I don't think it'll necessarily stop alien races from showing up in SF for a long time to come, but that's because alien races make good story elements. Asimov's Foundation series, where there are no alien races to be found, becomes almost more plausible.

Right now I'm reading Jean Auel's The Plains of Passage. It's not really pulling me along, since it contains some bad writing, and winceworthy segments where the author(not either of our protagonists, oh no)drones on and on about indigenous planet and animal species, and uses intensely anachronistic words like "protein" in doing so. When things are actually happening, it's okay, but Ayla and Jondalar's thought processes are far from profound, and their dialogue rarely more so. There is no plot, really--this falls mostly into the category of "Milieu" novel, with people wandering around discovering things.

Well, I'll try to read it, and if I get stuck, I will give up. I've done it before, on rare occasions, when it's warranted. I've got the new Dave Barry novel out from the library, as well as a Robert Sawyer short story collection, Iterations, so I don't have time to read too much dreck.




On to the glacially slow-moving countdown:

292. Bruce Cockburn: Anything Can Happen, from Big Circumstance

It took me a while to get into this album, and to discover the album closer, one of Bruce Cockburn's rare funny moments. Over a jazzy background, he speculates on all the ways he and his lover could die, and then uses this to clarify why he doesn't want to say goodnight. Always good for a smile.

291. Suzanne Vega: Undertow, from Suzanne Vega

Another great song from Vega's first album, which has no shortage of them. Unfortunately, and embarrassingly, that makes it hard for me to pick out a distinguishing feature to discuss here. Oh, well.




I like you, but I wouldn't want to see you working with subatomic particles.


Aaron // 10:33 PM Clix me!
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